


Nine Lad(ie)s Dancing

by scientits (donedirection)



Series: Twelve Days of Christmas [9]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Christmas Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 18:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2861747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donedirection/pseuds/scientits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December 2013 - Harry has other ideas for how to use mistletoe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Lad(ie)s Dancing

It was honestly meant to be a lads night – cue Fincham shouting “more butch!” – but the thing is, Nick honestly doesn’t know that many men – at least not ones keen to spend an entire evening with. But he can be consoled, he thinks, by the fact that over half of the guest list is lads – even if it’s just barely. Four girls and five guys is probably as butch as it’s ever going to get at one of Nick’s parties.

He’s just starting to put the drinks out when Harry comes through the door, wearing a shit-eating grin and holding what looks like a box of mistletoe. Before Nick can inquire about the package, Harry is standing on tiptoe to stick a branch above the doorway.

Nick laughs, “Do people still do mistletoe?”

Harry turns, hand still holding the mistletoe in place on the doorframe, “Of course they do. I’ve got a whole bunch on my front door.”

“ _On_ your door?” Nick asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, on my door,” Harry says, stepping back from the door and admiring his work.

“It’s definitely not meant to go _on_ your front door, you’re thinking of a wreath,” Nick says, watching Harry walk past him toward the door to the kitchen.

“Well, I’ve got mistletoe.”

“Wow, what kinda house are you running over there, Haz?”

Harry lets out a small harrumph of displeasure, still stretching up to hang more mistletoe. Nick’s eyes immediately settle on Harry’s waist, where the hem of his jumper has lifted to reveal a strip of soft skin.

He moves into the doorway, hands settling on the soft swell of Harry’s hips. “Would you look at that?” Nick asks, looking up to the mistletoe hanging above them. Harry turns so he’s facing Nick, a small smile playing on his lips. “Give us a kiss then." 

Harry tips his head up to press his lips to Nick’s – it’s soft and sweet and everything that makes Nick want to keep Harry here for the rest of his life. But he pushes that thought aside for the moment. “Better finish hanging these – and don’t forget to put one above the closet if you want to see Daisy and Alexa kiss.”

 

And Nick was right – when Daisy shows up carrying a load of Christmas crackers, her and Alexa both end up right in front of the closet. Nick can hear Harry laughing from the kitchen when they lean in to give each other a friendly kiss.

“Why’s your house plastered in mistletoe, then?” Daisy asks, pushing the box of crackers into Nick’s hands, “Hoping for a little Christmas magic?”

“You’re gonna have to talk to Cupid over there, he’s the one that brought it all,” Nick says, nodding his head to where Harry is sat at the counter, watching Aimee tell a story that has her gesticulating wildly with her wine glass.

When they approach, Aimee insists on opening the crackers immediately – she’s always been a bit intense about the paper crowns, forbidding anyone from taking them off until they break.

Nick enjoys a festive hat as much as anyone else, but he’s soon faced with a familiar problem. When he attempts to slide the paper crown over his head, it gets caught before it’s even over his hair. “My head’s too big. Who are these made for anyway?”

“Children, I imagine,” Harry says, but his crown had fit over his head, albeit a bit snugly.

Nick huffs out a laugh. “Oh yeah, I forgot about those guys,” he says, smoothing the paper out on the counter.

“I know,” Harry says, taking the crown from Nick’s hands and walking into the kitchen. “Just need a bit of sellotape,” he continues, pulling open the drawer next to the oven – and Nick’s heart definitely does _not_ do a tiny flip in his chest when he realizes that Harry remembers where he keeps the tape.

Nick hadn’t noticed that Harry had nicked the rest of the Christmas crackers on his way into the kitchen. He holds them up and looks at Nick very seriously, “You want the same color or do you wanna do half and half?”

“I’d like to keep it all the same color – to give the illusion that my head is a normal size, thanks.”

“Hmm, I woulda gone for a bit of red and a bit of green, but suit yourself,” Harry says. He has to pull open three crackers before he finds another red one. He carefully cuts the crown and wraps it around Nick’s head, measuring out how much extra paper he’ll need.

“See, your head’s not _that_ much bigger than a child’s,” Harry says, holding up his fingers to show how much extra paper he’ll need.

“Thanks, I think,” Nick replies.

Harry starts to pull a piece of sellotape off the roll but pauses, screwing his face up in concentration, “Need better lighting, come to the bathroom.” 

Nick doesn’t get to say that he thinks it might actually be dimmer in there because Harry is already pulling him out of the kitchen. As they pass through the living room, he happily notes that all of his guests are half-heartedly dancing and whole-heartedly drinking, so he figures he can spare a few moments to get his paper crown tailored.

But when they turn the corner into the bathroom, Harry tosses the crown and tape onto the counter and turns to face Nick again. Nick is pretty sure he knows where this is headed – and his suspicions are confirmed when Harry sinks to his knees.

Nick hastily turns to lock the door – he might sneak off to have sex in the loo at his own party, but he does not intend to be caught doing it.

When he turns back around, Harry is still on his knees, only now he’s holding a branch of mistletoe above his head. “Would you look at that?” he asks, kneeing his way toward Nick.

Nick moves so his back is pressed against the wall, “If you wanted to suck me off, all you had to do was ask, love.”

“That’s not very festive,” Harry pouts before pressing a chaste kiss against the crotch of Nick’s jeans. Harry holds the branch out to Nick, but when Nick reaches down to take it, Harry sucks two of Nick’s fingers into his mouth instead.

Nick sighs – he hadn’t planned on denying Harry’s advances, but now that Harry is looking up at him, wide-eyed and hungry, and two of his fingers are tucked inside the wet heat of Harry’s mouth, he knows that he’s useless to resist.

He lifts his free hand to tangle his fingers in Harry’s hair, “You wanna kiss it?”

Harry nods his head, Nick’s fingers still in his mouth.

“Tell me,” Nick says, pressing his fingers further into Harry’s mouth. If Harry can orchestrate an elaborate Christmas bathroom blowjob, the least Nick can do is work him up about it a little bit.

“Wanna kiss your cock,” Harry says, words muffled by Nick’s fingers. It’s the exact answer Nick had been looking for, but something about the way Harry says it – casually, like saying he wants Nick’s cock is just as natural and commonplace as saying he wants Chinese takeaway for dinner – makes Nick’s head swim.

He pulls his fingers out of Harry’s mouth with a wet pop – which he finds hotter than he should – and rubs his fingers along Harry’s bottom lip, “Go on then, love.”

Harry lets the mistletoe fall from his hand as he reaches up do undo Nick’s jeans and slide them down. Harry’s quick to get a hand on Nick, stroking him the rest of the way to hardness, pressing kisses from the base to the tip. It’s ridiculous that he’s only half an hour into hosting a party, and he’s already locked in the bathroom with his pants around his knees while Harry literally kisses his dick – but then again, most things involving him and Harry are a bit ridiculous.

He doesn’t get to mull over it for long because Harry is leaning forward and taking the head of Nick’s cock into his mouth – and after that, most of his thoughts are preoccupied by the tight, wet heat of Harry’s mouth. Harry doesn’t move at first, just blinks up at Nick with his lips stretched around his cock.

“God, you look pretty like this,” Nick says, brushing Harry’s hair away from his face. At this, Harry hums contentedly around Nick and seems to decide that he’s done teasing. He lets his jaw go slack and slowly slides halfway down Nick’s cock.

Nick groans and tips his head back against the wall. Harry pulls back up and then sinks back down again, a bit further than last time. He repeats the motion, sliding the tight ring of his mouth all the way up to the tip and sinking back down, taking a little more of Nick into his mouth with each stroke.

When Nick feels Harry’s nose brush against his skin – when Harry has his entire cock in his mouth – Nick’s hips stutter forward. He feels the muscles of Harry’s throat tense around him for one delicious second before Harry pulls off, coughing and spluttering.

“Sorry,” Nick says quickly, running a hand through Harry’s hair.

“No,” Harry looks up at him, his lips swollen and slick with spit, “Liked it.”

Before Nick can wonder what he’d done in a past life to deserve this, Harry is taking Nick back into his mouth and grabbing onto the backs of Nick’s thighs with his hands. He slides back down quicker this time, and when Nick feels the entrance of Harry’s throat flutter around the tip of his cock, Harry lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

Harry starts bobbing his head slightly – adding some pull to the already overwhelming tight heat around Nick’s cock. Harry looks up at Nick – eyes watering and taking ragged breaths through his nose – and Nick thinks it might be the filthiest, most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck, Harry, that’s good. You’re so good,” Nick pants, running a soothing hand through Harry’s hair. 

Harry is digging his fingers into the backs of Nick’s thighs, like he’s trying to pull him closer, like Nick could possibly push any further into his throat.

Nick nudges his hips forward a fraction of an inch, and Harry makes a noise halfway between a sob and a moan.

“God,” Nick says, and Harry is looking up at him, eyes dark with arousal. “Do you want me to fuck your mouth?”

Harry huffs out a breath through his nose and nods his head the best he can with Nick still in his mouth.

Nick tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair and starts moving his hips in shallow thrusts. Harry splutters, but doesn’t try to pull off, just keeps taking rough breaths through his nose.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” He’s finding it hard to focus on a single thought, too overwhelmed by the velvety heat of Harry around his mouth – but the central theme of his fragmented thoughts is definitely Harry getting off on choking on his dick. He tightens his fingers in Harry’s hair, “So close.”

When he finally comes, everything goes static. He doesn’t think about the party going on a room away or how they’ll explain their absence, just thinks about the pleasure ripping through him and the fact that he’s coming down Harry’s throat.

When Harry pulls back, he looks absolutely wrecked, but he just looks up at Nick contentedly, all tear stained cheeks and swollen lips.

“God,” Nick says, pulling Harry toward him so Harry’s head is resting on his hip. “That was so good, you were so good.”

Harry makes a happy sound in his throat and nuzzles his face into Nick.

Nick can see that Harry is hard in his jeans – he feels a weak surge of arousal move through his body at the thought of Harry getting hard just from Nick fucking his mouth. Nick runs his fingers through Harry’s hair, “You wanna get up and let me get you off before we go back out there?” 

Harry shakes his head into Nick’s hip, “Later,” he croaks.

Nick doesn’t understand. “Harry, your jeans are too tight to hide that you're hard,” he says gently, still stroking Harry’s hair. Harry glances up at him, eyes still dark, and Nick suddenly gets it. “Oh, you like that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. His voice is almost a whisper, but Nick can still tell he’s hoarse.

“Your voice is wrecked too, so everyone’s gonna know what you were doing in here,” he says, unwilling to miss an opportunity to work Harry up. Harry groans helplessly like he’s equal parts excited and terrified to return to the party. “Well, you’d better at least finish fixing up my crown, or we’re really not gonna have an excuse for being in here for so long.”


End file.
